


Yours to Command

by slightlytookish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mind Control, Non Consensual, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancelot is easy to train. Morgana finds it easy to pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours to Command

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for non-con and mind control is due to Lancelot being the enchanted, episode 4x09 version of himself.

"It's not your sword I require so much as your heart," she says, and for a while she believes it.

Lancelot is weak, and tired, but he still listens attentively as she tells him about Gwen and Arthur and Camelot, and how he will help her destroy them. She watches him closely, waiting to see a flicker of recognition or remorse in his eyes as she talks about his old friends and his old life but Lancelot just listens quietly, accepting everything she says without question. 

His mind is open and malleable, there for Morgana to mould into any shape she pleases. He's a devoted ally, everything she hoped he would be when she first came up with this mad, desperate plan.

"I am yours to command, my lady," he says, and for some reason Morgana feels unbearably sad.

*

At one time she had a talent for conversation, for flirting and filling countless hours with the sound of her own voice. But she is no longer a lady of the court, and she has been alone with just her thoughts for so long that the idea of trying on her old voice, even for an audience of one, is exhausting and terrifying all at once. These days she gets by on threats and magic instead of pretty smiles.

So she commands him to work, to fill his time when he is not learning how to be Lancelot with mindless chores. Her hovel may be small and shabby but there is plenty for him to do and Lancelot does all of it without complaint, whether she orders him to tidy the shelves of supplies or to get on his hands and knees and scrub the floor.

He needs to keep up his strength, she tells herself as she watches him chopping firewood shirtless in the sun, and she tries ignore how strangely gratifying it feels to work alongside him in the evenings, stirring her potions as Lancelot carefully grinds the herbs she needs at the table.

*

"I shall be sorry to see him go," she tells Agravaine, and that night she takes Lancelot to bed.

He is eager to please, just as she knew he would be. His hands are gentle on her body, caressing her hips and her breasts as he ducks his head to kiss and lick and suck everywhere she tells him to. 

"I am yours," he says when he slides inside her, and it's easy for Morgana to pretend that the devotion she sees in his eyes is actually love.

*

"He is not ready," she says when Agravaine visits again. "We must devise another plan."

He looks doubtful and tries to protest, and on any other evening Morgana would put him in his place and berate him for disagreeing with her, but right now she just wants Agravaine to leave.

She closes the door in his face and waits there, listening as he lingers a while before trudging through the fallen leaves to his horse.

When she's certain that he's gone she returns to Lancelot. He's lying in her bed, lightly dozing, and when she sits beside him his eyes open immediately.

"Must I leave, my lady?"

"No," she says, kissing him. "We have plenty of time."


End file.
